


Hitchhiking With A Monogrammed Suitcase

by stopmysinfulhand



Series: Star Treatment [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 40’s au, Diners, F/M, Familial Abuse mention, Hitchhiking, Lounge Singer AU, Mob AU, Motels, no powers au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-28 14:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15051320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopmysinfulhand/pseuds/stopmysinfulhand
Summary: The story of how you and Bucky met, and how he managed to get you a job.





	1. Chapter 1

Cold air rushed against your rain-stained clothing, prompting a pretty severe shiver from your already shivering body. Your teeth chattered loudly, drowned out only by the cars that flew past you, rustling your soaked skirt and occasionally spitting puddles onto you. Just what you needed, more water. At least it had stopped raining. You leaned against a barrier, resting your tired feet for a moment and setting your bag on the ground. Your eyes were drawn to the sky, the stars glittering down at you, the moon gone, as if in disapproval of your rebellion. You stuck your tongue out at where the moon would be, that judgemental bitch.

You had just started thinking about where you were going to sleep for the night when a dark blue chrysler pulled onto the shoulder next to you, headlights blinding you for a moment, and then they were off and the owner stepped out. “Hey kid, you okay?” a smooth voice asked.

You blinked the dots out of your eyes and looked up at the man. He was in a well tailored brown suit, his hair stylish but just a tad too long. His eyes were blue, so light they were almost glassy. He scratched at the 5 o’clock shadow that adorned his jaw as he considered you while you considered him. Neither of you spoke, until he repeated his question, to which you shrugged.

“Need a ride?” he asked.

“I’m on a road to nowhere, mister. I’m not in a rush to get there,” you told him, straightening a little.

His face lit up in amusement. “She speaks! How old are you, kid?”

You rolled your eyes. “None of your beeswax, hot shot. I’m not a kid though.”

The man stepped closer and squinted a little. “Oh no, I see that now. You’re what, 19? 20? Definitely not a kid.” He was mocking you now. You could see that.

You tsked and turned your eyes away from him, studying the car behind him instead. “Nice ride,” you said nonchalantly. “D’you steal it?”

It was his turn to be offended, his hands going to his hips. “Listen doll, I didn’t pull off to get sassed. You want the ride or not?”

You hummed in thought, gave him another glance over, and stood, picking up your bag. “Yeah alright. Might as well.” He seemed pleased with your answer and held his hand out for your suitcase, which you handed to him.

He looked it over with a slight chuckle. “This your monogram?”

“Maybe,” you said as you popped open the passenger door and climbed inside the car. It was blissfully warm inside and you sighed, shucking off your wet jacket. He slid into the driver’s seat, once your bag was securely in the trunk, and glanced over to you.

“If I’m gonna give you a ride, I’d like to know your name,” he told you as he pulled back onto the road.

You snorted. “You saw the bag. Guess.” The look he gave you told you he really didn’t want to, but he indulged you, shooting off a few names that started with the first letter of your name. You greeted each wrong guess with a buzzer noise, growing more amused as he grew more frustrated.

“Bucky,” he said finally. Your eyebrows shot up.

“Not even close, hot shot! Did you even see the bag?” you asked incredulously.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, I know that’s not you. It’s me.” His clarification startled you a little.

“Bucky,” you repeated, looking at him with your head cocked to the side. “Huh.” After a moment you decided to give up your game and tell him your name. He repeated it back to you as you had done to him and it brought a smile to your face.

“This really is a nice car,” you told him as you slid your hands over the smooth leather of the interior. “Is it yours?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. You could feel him getting more exasperated with each thing you said, but it’s not like you asked to be picked up! So, naturally, you were going to push him until he pushed you out of the car.

You whistled in appreciation and stretched out on the bench seat. “Bet you have to have a pretty cushy job to afford somethin’ like this, huh, hot shot?”

“Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.” Your question remained unanswered. Hm.

“Sure, Buck. You got it. So, job?” you asked. He gave you the side eye but otherwise remained quiet on the issue. Silence stretched between you as he drove, keeping his eyes mostly on the road while you kept your eyes mostly on him, watching the way his eyebrows knit themselves together.

“How ‘bout you, huh? What’s your shtick?” asked Bucky, finally breaking the near oppressive silence.

“Me? Nothin’. Like I said, I’m on the fast track to nowhere,” you told him.

He hummed and tilted his head at you once he had reached a stoplight. “What’re you running from?”

A chill ran up your spine and you tried to hide the way you stiffened, playing it as cool as you could. “Who says I got anything to run from?” you asked, a tinge of panic in your voice.

“Tch, relax kid, I’m not gonna turn you in. ‘Less you did something really bad. Did you?” he asked in amusement. “You running from the law?”

You scoffed, pleased when the action made him laugh. “Yeah, you know it. The feds are out for my blood,” you said sarcastically. His smile was so bright, it helped the rain-chill seep from your bones. Something in his manner made you want to tell him the truth, but that seemed a little risky. Of course, not nearly as risky as getting into a stranger’s car and just letting them drive, not even asking where he was going, but you told yourself it was out of desperation, and definitely NOT just because you thought he was good looking.

You decided you may as well. Not like you had a lot to lose. “No, um, actually, I got out of a bad family situation.” The chill seeped back in and you rubbed your arms in an attempt to keep it at bay. “Real bad,” you grumbled.

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry, kid.” You could tell he didn’t know what else to say, his discomfort evident on his face.

You shrugged and gently pushed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m dealin’ with it, aren’t I?” You gave him a half-smile and he gave you one in return.

Bucky pulled off the road into the parking lot of a diner and turned to you. “You can get whatever you want and change clothes if you want. I’m buyin’.” God, this man was your knight in shining brown wool.

You nodded and slipped out of the seat, waiting for him to open the trunk so you could get your clothes, and then soon you were sitting in a booth, finally dry, with Bucky looking at a menu across from you.

“Sooo,” you started, drawing Bucky’s eyes to you. “Where we goin’?”

He smiled a little and looked back at his menu. “New York.”

“City?!” you asked incredulously.

“Mhm,” he confirmed with a grin. “The Big Apple itself. ‘S where I live.”

You whistled in amazement. “I’ve always wanted to see the big city. What’re you doin’ all the way out here?”

His humor disappeared for a moment, his eyes firmly fixed everywhere but you. “Business.”

“Which is…?” you prompted.

“None of yours,” he said firmly.

You clicked your tongue against your teeth and sat back in the booth, your arms crossed over your chest. “Lame,” you lamented. He shrugged. The waitress came and took your orders, in which you ordered as much food as you could eat. When the food arrived, you only just barely restrained yourself from stuffing your face. Once you had eaten your fill, you moaned in contentment and rubbed your now slightly swollen belly.

Bucky laughed. “Got what you needed?” he asked.

“Mostly.”

“Mostly?” He quirked an eyebrow.

You grinned. “I could use a shower. I’m sure you could too. No offense, but you look like you’ve been on the road for a while,” you told him.

He scratched self consciously at the scruff on his cheeks as he checked his watch. “Yeah well, maybe. I’ll make some calls and see what I can do. Stay here,” he said as he stood from the table.

“As if I got anywhere better to be.” You sipped your milkshake to emphasize your statement. He nodded and went to the payphone area, leaving you to flip through the menu again. Your waitress passed by and saw you alone.

“Everything alright, sugar?” she asked as she refilled your water glass.

“Right as rain,” you assured her with a smile.

She nodded and stole a glance at Bucky’s back, a soft frown playing on her heavily lipsticked lips. “He looks sorta dangerous, don’t he?” Her question was more of a nervous twitter.

“Oh, I suppose,” you agreed, also glancing towards him. “He’s good though. An old friend of mine.” The lie slipped out easily, like defending him was instinct. “Thanks for your concern.” She nodded and scurried away as soon as she saw Bucky start to make his way back. He slid in the booth across from you with a satisfied smile. “Got what you needed?” you asked, echoing his phrase from earlier.

“I got us a two-bed room at the motel down the road for the night. They even have a continental breakfast in the lobby in the morning,” he said.

You let out a low whistle. “Way to go, hot shot. Sounds like a solid find.”

He chuckled and pointed at you with his fork. “Don’t make fun of me, kid. At least you don’t have to sleep in the back of the car. Or worse, outside.”

“And for that, I’m grateful,” you said sincerely. “But, I’m still gonna make fun of you.”

“Understandable,” said Bucky with equal sincereness. He gestured for the waitress so he could pay, put money down for the tip, and nodded towards the door. “Let’s motor.”

The motel that Bucky pulled up to once you left the restaurant was almost picturesque in its motel-ness. The neon sign prompted vacancies and flashed with an enthusiasm that was contagious. A blue pool illuminated the L-shaped building behind it, soft blue on yellow, and the parking lot was nearly empty, adding to the secluded vibe. “Oh Buck,” you breathed as he pulled in the parking lot. “It’s so cute!” He picked a space near the office building and smiled at you as he put the car in park.

“Glad you like it, doll,” he said. Bucky got out and got your bag from the trunk along with a black overnight bag. You held your hand out for your suitcase but he shook his head. “Nah, (Y/N), I can carry it. Go on to the office and get the key, would ya? Under Barnes.”

You nodded and did as he said, practically skipping into the office building. The tired looking employee behind the desk looked up from his magazine and popped his gum at you. “Can I help you?” he asked in a bored tone.

“Uh, yeah, reservation for Barnes?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

The employee raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you Barnes?”

“Uhh…” you stalled for a minute. “No, but my… boyfriend. Is.” Perfect cover.

The employee rolled his eyes and passed you the key. “Whatever, kid. Tell your boyfriend he needs to pay in the morning when you return the key.” With that, he turned back to his magazine, and you left, feeling a little stiffed.

You and Bucky went to your room on the second floor of the motel. He unlocked the door and plopped his bag on the bed closest to the door, setting yours gently on the other one. You leaned against the balcony for a minute, watching the way the pool glittered invitingly below you before you joined him in the room. “You wanna go for a swim, Buck?”

Bucky squinted at you as he removed his shoes. “Huh?”

You thrust your thumb towards outside. “The pool looks really nice,” you said. “Wanna swim?”

He gave you that cute little crooked smile he had. “You got a suit?” he asked. When you shook your head, he raised his eyebrows at you. “What, you wanna skinny dip? I think that’s moving a bit too fast-“

“No no no,” you interrupted, shaking your head quickly. “Jeez Bucky, no, I just meant, I could swim in my underwear or somethin’. C’mon, can we?”

“You can, (Y/N), but I’m not gonna. I’m beat,” he said, shouldering off his jacket.

You pouted. “Please? I don’t wanna swim alone,” you pleaded.

He gave you a hard stare, considering your plea for what was probably only a few minutes, but what felt like hours. Finally, he said, “Alright,” and stood with a resigned sigh. You cheered and rifled in your bag for a minute, pulling out your previously soaked set of underwear. Might as well get them wet for fun this time. You changed in the bathroom and grabbed the complimentary towels. You walked out and saw that Bucky had stripped down to his boxers, grumbling as he slid off the garters that held up his socks. “Can’t believe you talked me into this, guess there really is nothin’ I wouldn’t do for a pretty face.”

You beamed. “You think I’m pretty?”

If looks could kill, Bucky just caused you to disintegrate into a pile of ashes. “Don’t push it, doll,” he grumbled as he stood and snatched one of your towels. “C’mon.”

You made your way to the pool, Bucky trudging and you skipping, your smile growing larger as you neared the water. After setting down your towel, you stood at the edge of the water for a moment before taking a deep breath and canon balling. You surfaced after a moment of adjustment, smiling up at Bucky, who sat on the edge of the pool, only his legs in the water. “What’d you think?”

He shrugged. “7/10,” he said simply.

You stuck your tongue out at him and crossed your arms, setting them on the ledge next to his legs. Up close, you could see he had some light scars across his torso, the scarring really heavy around his left shoulder. You realized you were staring and averted your eyes, trying to hide the blush that stained your cheeks. “Why don’t you come in the water, Buck?”

He sighed, eyes trained on the lightly sloshing, glowing, water that clung to his calves. “I don’t know, (Y/N), I don’t swim so well. Water makes me kinda nervous,” he admitted.

You swam back a little so you could smile up at him. “Not to worry, I’m a certified lifeguard. I’d save you if you drowned.”

He scowled at you. “It’s probably cold anyway.” He was stalling, so you swam closer and took his hand.

“C’mon, hot shot, I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” you promised. “Just one little dunk.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head, looking up at the sky for guidance before he took his hand away and used it to lower himself into the water. You cheered and gave him some space, not wanting to crowd him. “You’re the worst,” he grumbled, standing still once he was in the water.

He loosened up after a while, and soon you were lightly splashing him and swimming circles around him, only slightly annoying him. He looked really pretty illuminated by the blue light emanating from the water that lit up his eyes, his scowl softened into a soft smile. You floated next to him and gave him a sleepy smile. “You’re doin’ great,” you told him.

His smile widened. “You tired?”

You fought back a yawn. “Maybe.”

“It’s late,” he said, looking up. “Let’s go to bed.” Bucky trudged towards the stairs and you swam slowly after him, enjoying the way the stars looked. He exited the water and dried off, holding your towel out for you. You dried off as well and before you knew it, you were back in the room, collapsing onto the only-slightly-musty bed and curling up under the covers. The last thing your tired eyes saw was Bucky’s soft smile, and sleep came easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like the aesthetic of motels :,) I know it’s kinda confusing to have this fic after the first one but this is like a flashback I guess.


	2. Chapter 2

You woke up to a freshly-showered Bucky tying the laces of his loafers, his foot propped up on the edge of his bed so he could reach, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Blue eyes flicked to you and he smiled that easy smile. “Good morning,” he said brightly.

You yawned in lieu of an immediate reply, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. “Didn’t peg you for a morning person,” you grumbled as you tossed the covers back. A shiver ran through you as the air hit, what you realized was, your exposed skin, leaving you blushing at your own half-nudity.

Bucky, ever the gentleman, kept his eyes firmly on the ceiling as he spoke again. “Water’s hot, if you wanna shower. I’ve got to go pay and make a few calls, so take your time okay?” With that he was gone, leaving you to your own devices.

The water was hot, as promised, and it was heavenly to get all of the muck that had accumulated on you through your journey off and down the drain. You felt lighter, both physically and in spirit, as you stepped out of the shower and admired your dripping reflection in the foggy mirror. Your hair had grown since the last time you saw yourself, and you pondered whether you could con Bucky into paying for your haircut. After a moment of deliberation, you decided you probably didn’t need to con him at all, considering how sweet he’d been already.

Soon as your hair was somewhat dry, you were dressed and ready to go, your bag resting next to Bucky’s. A knock sounded on the door before the man in question opened it anyways, poking his head in. “Ready doll?” he asked.

You nodded and picked up both bags, a grin on your face. “Whenever you are, hot shot.”

The open road stretched out before you as Bucky started out to New York, your imagination working over time as you pictured bright lights and big cities. “What’s it like?” you asked as the car ambled past Virginia state lines.

Bucky looked over to you and raised an eyebrow. “What’s what like?”

“New York,” you said. “That is where we’re going, right?”

He nodded and smiled a wistful sort of smile, taking a moment to think. “It’s huge and loud, and crowded. People everywhere. Sometimes it feels like you’re packed in a sardine can, especially in the subways.”

You wrinkled your nose. “What’s so great about that?”

He laughed. “You gotta be there to feel it, kid. It’s like magic in the air. Sure, the city’s got its pitfalls, but there’s nothin’ like it out there. I wouldn’t wanna live anywhere else. I don’t know that I’d know how,” he admitted, with such conviction in his voice that you were almost catching his contagious excitement.

“Well jeez, when you put it that way.”

“Plus,” added Bucky, “it’s the land of opportunity.”

“I thought that was all of America,” you deadpanned.

He waved away your comment. “Sure, sure, but you know the saying, ‘if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere’, it’s true, ya know?”

“Sure Buck,” you agreed, unable to fight the smile that crept onto your features. “I guess I’ll get to find out for myself, huh?”

“Don’t you worry, kid.” He nudged your arm lightly with his elbow. “I’m in your corner. I’ll get you set up.”

His words both shocked and touched you, similar to rubbing socks on a carpet and opening a door. “Bucky, you don’t have to-“ you started, but he interrupted you.

“What’d you think I was gonna do? Throw you to the wolves?” He gave you a cryptic smile. “Not my style.”

His kindness left you dumbstruck, the only thing you could think to do was sit and blush, your mouth slightly agape. It was difficult to process how nice he was being, and to be honest, you didn’t understand why he was doing it. Suspicion filled you and you peered at him with squinted eyes. “What do you want?” you asked.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he glanced from the road to you. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what do you want from me? I have nothing to give you in return. I don’t get why you’re being so good to me.”

“(Y/N),” he said, exasperation mixed with concern, eyes on your crossed arms. “I don’t want anything in return, I just wanna help.”

“Why? Give me a reason,” you pleaded, pulling your knees to your chest.

Bucky sighed and pulled over, parking on the shoulder and turning to look at you. “Listen, (Y/N), my childhood wasn’t the best financially, but I’ve been able to get myself out of that, so why shouldn’t I help others?”

“Nobody ever does things outta the goodness of their heart,” you grumbled, resting your chin on your knees.

“Maybe not where you come from,” he agreed. “But we’re a different breed up north.”

You had to smile at that. “Yeah,” you said, “I’ve noticed.”

Bucky smiled as well and awkwardly patted your shoulder for a moment, before putting the car back in drive and continuing down the highway. The tension loosened from your shoulders and you sat normally in the seat again. Maybe he really was good people, if they existed at all. You looked at him, really looked, and saw the weariness in him, but also the strength. His tales of hardship seemed true enough, you could tell by the thinness of his face, the kind that made his cheekbones look sharp enough to slice your palm. His shoulders were straight, no slouch, speaking of the confidence he held within himself despite all that.

Those glassy blue eyes caught you staring and he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Somethin’ on my face?” he joked.

“Yeah,” you grumbled. “Somethin’ ugly.”

“Ouch doll,” he said in mock sorrow, his hand leaving the wheel to clutch his chest. “And here I thought, what with all your ogling, you thought I was handsome.”

You blushed and said indignantly, “I do not ogle you!”

Bucky laughed. “You do though.”

“Do not!”

“Do.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, going full pout and turning towards the window. You couldn’t “ogle” him if you watched the scenery outside. Bucky laughed and left you alone until you had passed out of Virginia and into Maryland.

“You hungry?” he asked, breaking the silence. You nodded and said nothing. Bucky’s smile faltered slightly. “What, you mad at me now?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “No. Just don’t wanna ogle you anymore,” you said. “I’d hate to give you the wrong impression.”

“Jeez doll,” he sighed, pulling into the parking lot of a shoddy looking italian place. “Learn to take a joke, will ya?”

“I’ll learn to take a joke when you start making funny ones,” you shot back, softening your tone so he wouldn’t think you were really mad. Sure enough, his smile returned, crooked and soft, like he was still trying to figure the expression out.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair point. Now c’mon, I’m starved.” You both got out of the car and you smoothed down your skirt, trying to make yourself look less rumpled. Bucky opened the door for you, and you asked the maitre de for a table for two, which you were promptly seated at. The inside of the restaurant was considerably nicer than the outside made it out to be, and you were relieved. You could take a lot of things, but bad food wasn’t one of them.

Bucky peeked at you over his menu and fought a smile as he watched you consider your options carefully. You looked up and caught his stare. “Now who’s ogling who?” you teased.

He chuckled. “I was just gonna tell you that you can get whatever you’d like.” He’d tell you that a thousand times over if he got to watch the way your eyes brightened every time he said it. He continued to watch as you flipped through the menu, his cheek resting against his palm. You looked up, startled to see such a tender expression on his face. The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, heat staining your cheeks the longer you were locked in his stare.

“Bucky-” you started, but then the waiter came for your order, effectively interrupting you, not that you knew how you were going to continue that sentence anyway. It was probably for the best. Your food came quickly after that, a plate of delicious-looking lasagna set in front of you along with a basket of bread in the center of the table.

Before you knew it, your food was gone and your stomach was full, a soft, contented sigh leaving you. The waiter came back with the check, handing it to Bucky with a smile and a “Here you are, Mr. Barnes.”

You looked inquisitively at Bucky. “You come here often?”

He shrugged. “It’s always on my way home when I go on trips. They have good food, plus the owner is an old friend of me.” He truly never ceased to amaze you.

“Are you ever going to tell me what you do?” you asked as Bucky pulled back your chair so you could stand, a very old timey gesture. Who said chivalry was dead?

“Maybe,” he said noncommittally. His aversion to the question was starting to annoy you. You leaned against him as his unlocked the car and whined. He stiffened and seemed to shrink from you a little, his cheeks heating up. “What?”

“The fact that you won’t tell me what you do is annoying, so I’m going to annoy you until you tell me,” you explained, putting more of your weight on him.

“Is this necessary?” he asked, his voice a little higher than usual.

You nodded and turned, pushing the back of your head into his chest so you could look up at him. “Just tell me, hot shot! It’s super shady that you haven’t yet, by the way.”

Bucky heaved a heavy sigh and gently pushed you away. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, kid, just get in the car,” he pleaded.

“Will you tell me?”

“...Maybe.”

You whined again and pressed against him more, going limp when he tried to push you away again. “Fine!” He grit his teeth. “Just get in the car.”

You grinned and stepped away from him so he could open the door. You slid across the bench seat to the passenger side and let him climb inside as well before you began to pester him again. “Tell me tell me tell me-“

He held up his hand for you to stop. “I’m a merchant. I receive imports and distribute them to their proper places,” he explained, obviously exasperated (what else was new?).

“What kinda stuff?” you asked.

“All kinds,” he replied shortly. “That’s all you get. You satisfied?”

You pursed your lips and looked out the front windshield, humming as you thought it over. “Sure. Thanks, Bucky.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, his hands rubbing circles into his temples. “Can we go now?”

“Onward!” you said joyfully, pointing towards the highway. With that, he pulled out of the parking lot, and you continued on your journey to the Big Apple. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes you home.

New York City completely dazzled you. You were asleep when Bucky first entered the city, but soon enough you were awake to see the giant buildings that loomed around you, taller than anything you’d ever seen before. The street was lined with lights, illuminating your path, and Jesus, Bucky wasn’t kidding about the people. You pressed your face to the window and watched as people surged on sidewalks near your car, some seated on stoops, others meandering past with a wave, but no small talk. Some obviously had somewhere important to be and rushed past, saying nothing at all. It was completely different from what you were used to. Everything seemed massive, and it made you feel small, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Bucky glanced at you as the car stopped at a light, smiling when he saw the way you were pressed against the window. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you marveled. You turned back to him, all jitters and excitement. “Where are we going first?”

“First thing is going back to my apartment. You’ll get to meet my roommate, Steve, and we’ll get you settled in the guest room,” he said.

Your eyes widened. “Bucky, you don’t have to-“ you started for the upteenth time, with Bucky waving it away as he did every time.

“Stop saying that,” he pleaded.

“But it’s your home. I feel like I’m intruding.” You tried not to shrink in your seat.

He simply scoffed and pulled off of the main road, taking a side street that looked more like an alley than a street. Guess you were going to see the less glamorous side of New York too. The buildings felt so close you were almost sure if you rolled down the window you’d be able to run your fingers along the bricks. Bucky took a hard left and went down into a steep tunnel, drawing a small shriek from you. He grinned. “Sorry. Forgot to warn you.”

He pulled the car into what seemed to be some kind of underground parking lot. He parked next to a dark blue vw beetle and turned to you with a smile. “Ready?”

You set your jaw and nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

Soon enough, you were in a dingy elevator, clutching your suitcase as Bucky pressed the button for the tenth floor. The doors closed and opened again to a dimly lit hallway. He led the way out and pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocking the door to apartment 7. He swung open the door and let out a contented sigh, setting his bag on the floor. “Home sweet home.” He ushered you in and shut the door behind you before calling out, “Steve! We’re home.”

A vaguely triangular man with well groomed blond hair and sky blue eyes peeked out from what you assumed was the kitchen, his smile so sweet it almost made you melt into a puddle, right there in the foyer. “Hiya Buck,” he greeted his friend before standing in front of you and sticking out his hand. “I’m Steve. Bucky’s told me about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to match the strength he put behind it. “(Y/N). I haven’t heard about you at all,” you said honestly, causing Steve to laugh. You decided you really liked his laugh. He gave your hand one last squeeze before he dropped it, and you pondered briefly if it was possible to fall in love with a person 5 minutes after meeting them.

“Let’s get you settled in, huh?” Bucky prompted, startling you out of your reverie. He picked up your bag and led the way to the guest bedroom, a small but elegantly decorated room. He set your bag on top of the dresser. “What do you think?”

“I’ll give you snaps for your decor.” You plopped onto the bed and sighed. “Oh this. This is beautiful,” you purred as you stretched out, your back arching slightly.

Bucky cleared his throat and when you opened your eyes, you saw his cheeks were tinged with red. “So it’s good?”

You hopped up. “Bucky, it’s wonderful. Thank you so much,” you told him earnestly. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

He practically beamed. “Not to worry, doll. You’re awful tough. I’m sure you woulda figured something out.”

“Maybe, but really, you’re a godsend.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, probably refute the statement, but Steve stepped in and interrupted him, laying his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You guys hungry? I made soup.”

“Soup,” Bucky repeated, staring at his roommate in surprise. “You made soup?”

“Well, you told me we’d have company,” Steve said with a shrug. “I thought I’d make soup.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you piped up. “I’d love some soup.”

They planted you at the kitchen table with one on either side of you, a steaming bowl of chicken noodle in front of you. The first spoonful was divine, despite how Bucky had made it out to be, and soon you had guzzled the whole bowl, leaning back in your chair with a contented grin. “You’re a culinary genius,” you announced.

“Gee, (Y/N), that’s sweet of you to say, but all I did was throw some things in a slow cooker. No big deal,” Steve said humbly.

Bucky snorted, to which Steve raised his eyebrows, and pointed across the table. “When we were younger, this jerk could hardly boil water.”

“People change, Buck,” Steve countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bucky mirrored his posture. “I’ve been cooking for you ever since we moved in together, and yet, suddenly you’re Marcel Boulestin.”

“I gotta figure out something to do when you’re gone.”

You watched their exchange, eyes flitting between them like you were watching a verbal tennis match. “Hey, um,” you said, interrupting the fight and drawing two sets of eyes to you. “Who’s Marcel Boulestin?”

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples, his frustration evident on his face. You were worried it was pointed at you, but you could see his eyes were fixed on Steve, who was smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “He’s a famous French chef,” he said finally, running his hand over his mouth. “My mom used to have his cook books.”

Your question seemed to have diffused some of the tension, and you sighed in relief. “How long have you two known each other?” you asked.

They both seemed to meditate on the question for the moment, until Steve finally answered. “Buck and I have been best friends since, what? First grade?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a smile. “Yeah, I think so.”

You whistled in admiration. “That’s incredible. What’s kept you together for so long?”

They shared a knowing smile. “I can’t imagine my life without him,” Steve said simply. The way they looked at each other made you feel like you were intruding, so you stood and took your bowl to the sink, washing it to give them some privacy. You turned the sink on as high as you could, the sound of running water drowning out whatever they were saying. As you set your bowl to dry, you took a moment to process everything that had happened the past two days. Here you were, about as far away from home as you could be without going to a different country, and in a nice apartment too, occupied by two almost-illegally handsome men who seemed content to take you into their home just because they felt it was the right thing to do. It almost made you wanna cry.

You looked out through the kitchen window, to see the city lit up and laid out in front of you, and then you did start crying, quietly, utterly overwhelmed. Surely Bucky’s charity could only get you so far, and you were way in over your head. You had few discernible skills, certainly none that could warrant you a job that paid well enough for you to get your own place.

The sink was running much longer than needed for a small bowl, and you shut it off, trying to choke down your tears so the boys wouldn’t hear you cry. You’d hate for them to think you ungrateful, after all. You turned your back to the sink and slid to the floor, sitting against the cabinets with your head in your hands, your shoulders still shaking as you attempted to stop the much needed tears.

That was how Bucky found you a few minutes later. He quickly kneeled in front of you, his worry etched on his face as he pried your hands from your eyes. “Hey kid, you okay?” he asked, echoing the first words he spoke to you. You attempted to smile, show him you were fine and he could skedaddle, but then you were crying again, hiccuping as tears formed salty tracks on your cheeks before you had the chance to wipe them away.

“Yeah, Bucky. Everything’s copacetic,” you managed once your sobs subsided. By now, Steve had come into the kitchen, standing beside Bucky, his arms crossed in a way that felt utterly maternal, not that you’d had much experience. He offered you a hand, which you took, and pulled you to your feet, gently squeezing your shoulder.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he said quietly.

You were very tempted to shrug his hand off, but you let him keep it there, turning your stare to the floor. “I’m not scared,” you grumbled.

Bucky gently nudged your arm, his smile soft. “‘Course not. You’ve got moxie.”

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” Steve agreed. “But she’s had an awful big change. It can be overwhelming.”

You nodded, mumbling out an affirmation before you leaned against Bucky, your head falling against his shoulder. Exhaustion seeped into your very bones and you put more of your weight against him, a yawn leaving you as you struggled to keep yourself up. “Alright kiddo, time for bed,” Bucky said before sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You started to protest but a yawn interrupted you. As Bucky laid you in the guest room bed, he gently patted your head. “Tomorrow we’ll go shopping.”

“Woooo,” you cheered sleepily, raising your hands in the air before you turned on your side and cuddled your pillow. He shut your door as he left, you curled up and slipped under the covers, getting comfy before you were out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky are in love bc that’s canon y’know? Doesn’t mean you can’t be loved too!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go shoping with the boys, and find yourself amidst a bit of drama.

“Oh, I don’t know, Bucky,” you fretted as you held up the two hangers, your eyes flitting from one dress to the other. “They’re sorta expensive.” You held each to your form and considered yourself in the mirror, glancing over to the chair that Bucky was slumped in, a lazy smile on his face.

“It’s fine, doll,” he assured you. “Get whatever you want.”

With a huff you turned to your other shopping partner, who rifled through the racks with an artist’s eye. “Steve, tell me what you think.”

He looked up, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Lemme see.” He gestured for you to show him the dresses, which you did, and nodded in approval. “I think they’re both swell,” he said, resolving nothing.

“Guys,” you whined, letting the dresses fall to your sides. “You’re no help.”

“Why don’t you really try ‘em on, (Y/N)?” suggested Steve, ever the mediator. “Then we can make a real decision.”

You pursed your lips in thought for a moment before you sighed and flitted into a dressing room, working on the zipper of the dress you were already wearing. You twisted and stretched as you attempted to get the little piece of silver that evaded your grasp, but your efforts were in vain as it continued to elude you. You poked your head out from behind the curtain. “Bucky,” you hissed softly.

“What?”

“Help.”

He was up in an instant, slipping through the curtain into the small space with you. It was easy to forget how much bigger he was than you in every other context, but the enclosed space made it near impossible to ignore as you found yourself pressed against a broad chest with broader shoulders blocking the doorway. “What’s up doll?” he asked, looking almost as uncomfortable as you felt.

You turned and gestured to the zipper, silently pleading for his assistance. He took the hint and gently grasped it, his other hand on your hip to steady you as he pulled it down. Clutching the dress to your chest, you turned, thanked him, and shooed him out before he could see the bright blush starting to stain your cheeks.

The first dress fit like a dream, clinging to the right places and draping artfully over the places you were less inclined to show. The soft color lit up your face and complimented your skin tone. It was like it was made for you. You drew back the curtain and stepped out, doing a little twirl. Bucky whistled his appreciation and Steve gave you a smile that near stopped your heart. “Beautiful,” said Steve.

“You think so?” You considered yourself in the mirror, trying not to over analyze while thinking critically at the same time. “I don’t know if I like the cut of it…” You knew they knew you were fishing for compliments, but they bit the line just the same.

“Nonsense. It was practically made for you,” said Bucky, echoing your earlier sentiment.

“It seems that way, doesn’t it?” you gushed. “Can I get it?”

“Of course,” Steve and Bucky said simultaneously. You almost asked someone to pinch you, they were just that dreamy.

You went back into the dressing room and changed into the second dress, although you didn’t like it nearly as much as the first one, not even enough to show the boys. You slipped it off, changed back into your regular dress, and stepped out with your new favorite garment cradled in your arms. “As grateful as I am for you takin’ me here,” you started as the three of you made your way to the register, “I think I’d rather do the rest of shopping someplace less, uh, high end.”

Bucky looked at you strangely for a moment, but Steve nodded in understanding, saving you from an explanation. “There’s a thrift shop right near the apartment. Wanna try there?”

You breathed a sigh of relief. Resale was much more your style. “Yes. Please. Thank you.”

Soon the dress was purchased and you were out on the streets, nestled in between Bucky and Steve, like you were some fancy Hollywood starlet and they were your handsome security guards. The thought made you giggle. Bucky slung his arm around your shoulder. “Somethin’ funny, doll?”

“Funny lookin’,” you shot back, fighting the urge to cuddle up to his side.

“Ouch, you got me again.” He clutched his hand to his chest dramatically. “You sure know how to wound a guy’s ego.”

“Lots of practice,” you said with a laugh.

“No doubt,” Bucky agreed. “I bet you broke all the hearts back home.”

You laughed again. “You hit the nail on the head. I was the town’s miss teen queen.”

“And how,” Steve piped up, shocking more giggles from you. “You’ll give all these northern girls a run for their money. Promise you’ll leave our hearts intact?”

“As if I’d ever run out on the two of you.” You patted Steve’s cheek. “Nah, I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Steve looked startled and traded glances with Bucky, who looked equally as spooked for a moment. “What?” you asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

Both men rushed to reassure you. “No no, it’s just a weird sorta coincidence,” said Bucky.

Steve supplied the rest. “That’s what Bucky said to me when my mom died. We say that as a support sorta thing, you know?”

“Oh.” You blinked. “That is a weird coincidence.”

There were nods of agreement, and the rest of the walk was in relative silence, until Steve stopped in front of a tiny shop that looked more like a hole in the wall than a store front. “This is it.”

“This is it?” you repeated. “Is there even anything inside?”

“Hey,” said Steve, a little wounded. “Give it a chance.” He gently pushed you to the door before opening it for you, letting you go in first.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the dimmer light and stifled a gasp, amazed at just how much bigger the inside was. There were rows and rows of clothes and stairs in the back, leading to what you supposed were more clothes. You stopped by a rack and checked the price on a tartan skirt. Oh yes, this would do nicely.

The boys let you have free run of the place, and soon enough, you returned to them, arms laden with clothes. “I’m gonna try these on, I need you to tell me what you think.”

“You got it, doll,” said Bucky with a smile. “We’ll be right outside the door.”

Entering a dressing room, you laid out your finds and made an effort to make little outfits, considering which articles went best together. With each outfit, you strutted out and posed for them to give feedback. Soon enough, you had built quite a little wardrobe, which you pushed into Bucky’s arms so he could buy them for you.

He kept the bags, so you didn’t have to carry anything, and gave you a satisfied smile. “How’s that?”

“Aw Buck,” you gushed, “You’re the best.” You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Jeez doll, it’s nothin’, really.” His grin grew. “Although, I’d buy you the world if it meant more thanks like that.”

You laughed and tugged him over to where Steve stood by the door. “C’mon,” you prompted. “I’m starving. Let’s beat it and eat.”

The restaurant you went to was a dinky little chinese place that looked like something out of a gutter, but the boys swore by it, so you there you sat, squished against a wall in a booth with Steve’s shoulder pressed against yours and your feet on top of Bucky’s, who sat across from you. Overall, not an awful position to be in, but not the best either. Bucky and Steve chatted amicably while you flipped through menu, your tongue stuck out a bit as you considered your options.

“What should I get?” you asked, putting the menu down to look at your companions.

Steve leaned over to consider your menu, even though he had a perfectly good one in front of him, and hummed. “I’m partial to the mushu pork. Buck usually gets the sesame chicken.”

You nodded and handed the menu to Steve, leaning back. “I’ll have what Bucky has.”

“Great choice, doll.” He gave you a smile, and you felt your stomach do a flip. Definitely just because you were hungry, and not because you were beginning to harbor a major crush on your would-be savior. No sir, not today. To alleviate your tummy butterflies, you fixed your eyes firmly on the glass door, watching people stream by outside.

You stiffened when two intimidating men in black suits entered, heading immediately for your table. “I think we have visitors,” you said quietly.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows and followed your eyes, his eyes narrowing when he saw the approaching figures. “Perfect,” he muttered, his displeasure obvious on his face. He looked to Steve and nodded towards the men. “C’mon. (Y/N), stay here.”

Yeah, like you were about to follow them. “You got it.” You mock saluted him, and then you were left alone in the suddenly much-too-large booth, swirling your straw in your drink as you watched Bucky and Steve converse quietly with the men and head outside, where they continued the conversation in front of the window. At least they kept in your line of sight. That was pretty considerate of them.

Sipping your drink, you almost choked as one of the men took a swing at Bucky, which he easily avoided, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. Jesus, you thought to yourself, is New York just like this? Steve looked about ready to rip the guy’s throat out, but Bucky settled him, after which he gave an incredibly stern talking-to to the men, promptly sending them scuttling away after the one who had tried to punch Bucky swore at him, loudly enough that you could hear.

You were sure your face was pale as a sheet as your companions returned to you, Bucky easy as a breeze and Steve, well, Steve wasn’t happy, that was for sure. “What the hell was that?” you asked once they sat down.

“Nothing to worry about,” Buck said calmly.

Steve huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s gonna be a problem in the future, Buck.”

“Then we’ll deal with it in the future. This is not something she needs to get dragged into.” He said it firmly, as if to end a long running debate.

You cleared your throat. “Uh hi, yeah, I’m guessing I’m the she? You wanna tell me what you’re talking about?”

“Just a work dispute, doll. It’s fine. Let’s eat,” he prompted, waving for the waiter.

“Okaaay, but what if something like that happens again?” you asked.

“It won’t.”

“But-“

“(Y/N),” said Bucky harshly. “I’m about to lose my patience.”

“She needs to know-“ Steve started, until Bucky sent him an icy glare.

“Steven Rogers, don’t you dare start with me right now. We are going to eat, and then we are going home. This discussion is over.”

You and Steve shared a glance, both effectively silenced. Bucky ended up ordering for all of you, since you and your seatmate were pouting. Steve leaned over to whisper in your ear, “I hate when he uses the dad tone.” You giggled, earning a questioning look from Bucky, which you answered with a sheepish smile.

“I don’t know, I thought it was kinda hot,” you whispered back, causing Steve to let out a laugh of his own.

“What are you two giggling about?” asked Bucky, obviously not used to being excluded.

You shrugged and said nothing. Steve did the same.

The brunet frowned. “C’mon guys.” He nudged your shin gently under the table, both, you supposed, a peace offering and a plea.

“Mm, I dunno,” you hummed, glancing at Steve. “What do you say, Stevie?”

“I say me and (Y/N) are entitled to have some secrets.” He slung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you flush up against him. Unable to stop the blush from staining your cheeks, you looked up and bit your lip, hoping to God it didn’t show.

“Buuuut,” Steve continued, “I guess if you really wanna know…”

The food was delivered before he could finish. Perfect timing. “Guess we’ll have to tell ya after dinner,” you said before digging in. You all ate in relative silence, only broken by the occasional plea from Bucky and refusal from Steve. Their almost childlike interactions made you laugh and wonder if this was what was able to keep them together so long. Sure, they obviously had moments where they were serious, but mostly they were kidding around, giving each other little digs and reminiscing about stuff. It lightened your heart.

On the other end, it also made you homesick for your siblings back home. You acted the same way with your older brother, and now that you were gone, you were reminded of the fact that you were probably not going to see him, or your other siblings, for a very long time. Unintentionally, you started to tear up, keeping your face huddled over your food so the boys couldn’t see the tears. Of course, they were able to notice the way your shoulders had started to shake slightly from the effort it took to keep your tears in.

“Doll?” Bucky nudged your shin gently. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Buck,” you managed, drawing a shaky breath. “It’s nothin’.”

Steve gently laid a hand on your upper back, rubbing small circles in a way that reminded you of what your mom would do when you were sick as a little kid. And there came the water works.

You burst into tears and covered your mouth, trying to control your breathing as Steve let out a pitying noise and wrapped his arm around you again. “Hey, it’s okay, (Y/N). What’s got ya down?” He handed you a napkin to wipe your tears with.

You let out a shaky laugh. “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually kinda homesick.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that. We’re here for you. You want Buck to take you back on his next trip?” You shook your head quickly. No, no, absolutely not. “Alright, relax,” he said with a soft laugh. Steve cuddled you close and rubbed your shoulder, everything about him gone soft to soothe you.

You managed a smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Steve’s middle name is maternal,” Bucky joked, getting you to smile more. “Not really. It’s Grant.”

“Like, the rock?”

“That’s granite, (Y/N).”

“Oh.” You burst into laughter, which was a considerably better feeling than tears, and leaned against Steve as you tried to catch your breath. You wiped the tears from your face and gave them both a megawatt smile. “Thanks, y’all,” you said, your accent slipping out a bit. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. And do for me. I don’t know what I’d do without y’all.”

“Jeez Buck, you told me she was from the south, you didn’t tell me it was the deep south,” Steve mused, at which you hit him gently in the stomach. It was like hitting a wall.

“I’m tryin’ to be sincere,” you whined. “Don’t make fun a me.”

Steve held up his hands in surrender and Bucky laughed. “You wanna head home?” he asked, to which you nodded.

“I wanna try on all my new clothes and make sure I still like ‘em.” Bucky paid and Steve slid out of his seat, allowing you to make your exit. You got out of the booth with a stretch and looped your arm with Bucky’s, waiting until you were outside to loop your other with Steve’s. Then the three of you walked arm-in-arm back to the apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I realize she crys a lot, but I cry a lot, so I’m sorry if you can’t relate because you don’t cry as much. 
> 
> Anyways, I love them. But I love you more. ;) Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Please leave me comments, they’re my life source.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has some reservations about you gaining employment.

“I need a job,” you announced to your roommates lounging in the living room. Bucky lifted his head from his newspaper to look at you strangely, his head cocked to the side.

“Why?” he asked cautiously.

You plopped down onto the couch next to him and plucked the paper from his hands, tossing it over your shoulder, where Steve caught it easily, as if he anticipated the move. Though, after living in the same apartment for two months, you supposed it wasn’t unlikely that he’d be able to predict your actions. “I’ve been freeloading for far too long,” you told Bucky as you stretched out on the couch, laying over his lap like a stubborn housecat. “I’ve got to earn my keep.”

“C’mon, doll, you know you don’t have to do that. I can easily take care of you.” He patted your head, in a manner you found extremely condescending.

You batted his hand away. “That’s the thing, Buck. I don’t want you to take care of me. I gotta figure out how to be alone.” He seemed to deflate a little and you nudged him, sitting up. “Don’t think I’m ungrateful, Buck. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Stevie here.” The latter sat next to you, his face etched with concern. “Oh jeez,” you groaned, “Not you too.”

Steve shrugged meekly. “I’m supportive of you! I’m just worried about where you could work. Getting a job is not the easiest in this town, especially not for a girl.”

“Steve’s got a point,” chimed in Bucky, raising your frustration level. “Why can’t you just let me handle everything?”

“Because, James.” His eyes widened. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m breaking out the first name. I can’t depend on you forever.” You stood up, your hands extended to the sky to further emphasize your point. “There’s a whole city out there I know little about, because I’ve been so sheltered here!”

“So what, you don’t like it here?” Bucky asked in a wounded manner, his hand drifting to his heart.

Steve stepped in before you had to explain. “That’s not what she’s sayin’, Bucky. She just wants some independence, don’t you, doll?”

You snapped. “Exactly. See, Steve gets my point, why can’t you?” you pleaded to Bucky.

Bucky looked at you for a minute, his big, blue eyes fixed on you for so long, you started to get unnerved. Then, he squinted, sighed, and ran his hand through his hair before he threw both hands up in surrender as Steve had done earlier. “Fine, (Y/N), if you want a job, you can get one.”

You squealed and threw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best, Buck!” You were so excited that you missed the way his cheeks flushed at the cheek, and the way he rubbed bashfully at the mark while you jumped up and down and snatched the paper from Steve’s lap. “I’ll start lookin’!”

The next morning, you tossed the paper down on the breakfast table, a satisfied smile on your face. Bucky peered over his cereal bowl, eyebrow raised as he considered the help wanted ad you had circled multiple times. “Lounge singer,” he said flatly.

“Yep! Two shows a day, four nights a week. Easy money,” you said with equivalent brightness.

“Can you even sing?”

Your back straightened and your shoulders squared as you belted out a tune you knew by heart. Both of your roommates seemed impressed. “Wowza, (Y/N), where’d you learn to do that?” Steve marveled.

“Spent my whole life in my church choir, plus I was a soloist for 3 years straight in high school,” you lightly bragged. “It’s pretty much the only thing I’m good at.”

“Well, I’ll be.” Steve smacked his best friend on the back with a laugh. “Looks like she’ll be getting a job after all.” Bucky grumbled something and shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. Steve was practically beaming. “Don’t mind him, doll. You want me to take your to the audition?”

“Yes, please,” you chirped. “For right now, I gotta figure out something to wear!”

* * *

 Finding the club was harder than you expected, even with Steve’s expert guidance, and directions you received over the phone, mostly due to the fact that there were no signs, and the stairs down to the door were shielded by bushes. The lady on the phone told you it used to be a speakeasy, which was really neat and all, but you couldn’t figure out why that prevented advertising in the current day. Dressed in the dress Bucky had bought for you, and some snazzy shoes you’d picked up at a thrift shop, you waltzed into the club with as much confidence as you could muster, fizzling out as soon as you saw your competition. The lobby was filled, well, maybe not filled, but mostly full, of girls that were considerably more voluptuous and… leggy than you, all clutching sheets of music they’d prepared for their auditions. You turned to Steve in a panic.

“I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can,” he replied easily, squeezing your shoulder. “You’ve got talent, kid. Don’t let these dames scare you.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, casting another glance around the lobby. “I think I’m gonna let these dames scare me,” you muttered.

“(Y/N).” His voice took on that mom tone he got sometimes, equally scolding and comforting. “Look at me.” You obliged, trying not to shy away from his bright blue stare. “Do you want this job, or not?”

“Yes,” you managed.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want this job.”

“Why?”

You hesitated. “Because I want to forge my own path.”

“Good. Now do it.” He gave you a reassuring grin, gripped your shoulders, and shoved you into the sea of girls. “I’ll be here when you get back from forging!”

You gulped. Some help he was. Keeping your eyes trained on the ground, you managed to shoulder your way to the front desk, your lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Hi, um, I’m (Y/N) (L/N). We spoke on the phone this morning.”

The secretary looked down her nose at you and broke into a grin. “My God, aren’t you just a little doll?” Her voice was a little shrill, and heavily accented, but the joy in her tone eased your nerves, even if it was just a little.

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been told,” you managed with a meek smile.

“I’ll let Mr. Turner know you’re here. Go have a seat, honey, we’ll call you when we’re ready.”

“Thanks, um,” you glanced at her name tag, “Fran.”

She gave you another smile and gently shooed you away. Shouldering back through the crowd, you found an unoccupied space against the wall nearish to the door where you assumed they’d call the candidates through. Amidst your competition, you could see a few girls flocking to Steve like moths, his good looks and well tailored clothing a beacon of light. He only had eyes for you, though, and he kept his stare locked with yours, a supportive smile on his face as he made enough conversation to be polite, but not enough to show any real interest. It gave you a little boost. Maybe he was only there for you because Bucky picked you up like a stray, but god damn it, he was still there for you.

Just as you considered making your way back through the sea of legs to rescue him, the door opened and your name was called. You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and walked calmly to the casting agent, who looked you over with an eyebrow quirked. “You (Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, and he shrugged, gesturing for you to go through.

“You got a headshot?”

“Uh, no sir, but I have a resume.” You handed him the paper and tried not to look sheepish.

He looked it over briefly as he took a seat at the table in the room, his place between two other individuals. The one to the left of him was a man, dark hair to his shoulders with a scruffy beard, who stared at you through lightly tinted glasses and was introduced as Mr. Turner, the man who ran the club. The lady to the right of him had red hair that she wore in a bob and inquisitive eyes that left you feeling incredibly unnerved. She was introduced to you as Natasha. You weren’t sure what her job was, but you wanted to impress her. “Give the piano your sheet music,” the casting agent told you dismissively.

“Um,” you piped up. “I didn’t- I’d rather do this acapella, if I may.”

The casting agent looked up and narrowed his eyes. “Look kid-“

Mr. Turner interrupted him. “Let her do it.” As he spoke, you noticed he had an English accent. “It’s bold.”

With that, any dissent he may have had was quieted, the silence waiting to be filled by you. You swallowed hard and started to sing, shaky at first, but you knew the song, ‘I Gotta Right to Sing the Blues’, soon enough you were even moving your hips as you sang, keeping the beat for yourself.

Much to your surprise, they let you sing the entirety of the song, taking a moment to deliberate once you were done. You were left to fidget nervously in the center of the room and strain your ears to make out what they were saying. Finally, Mr. Turner turned to you, his face an unreadable mask. “We’ll call you.”

“That’s it?” you couldn’t help but blurt out. Quickly, you covered your mouth. “I’m sorry, sir. Thank you,” you said meekly, backing towards the door. The three began to converse again, dismissing you fully.

You hurried back to Steve, fighting potential tears. It was easier once you spotted each other, his beaming smile pushing the sad out of you and his arms curling around you banishing it completely from your mind. “How’d it go?” he asked once he had shuffled you both outside and up the stairs.

“They said they’d call me.” You attempted to sound hopeful, but it came out closer to miserable instead.

“Aw, relax, kiddo,” he told you encouragingly. After a moment of thought, he nudged you and gave you another smile. “You know what’ll cheer you up?”

You perked up. “Ice cream?”

He laughed. “My thoughts exactly. We’ll talk about it over a cone.”

“You sure know the way to a girl’s heart, Steve,” you said with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky just wants to take care of you :,) 
> 
> Comments fuel me, so tell me something


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky delivers some bad news.

You waited by the phone for days, only moving for duties essential for survival, i.e. food, bed, bathroom. Otherwise, you waited sentry-like next to the small table the phone rested on, hoping, praying, that the club would call you back. Your roommates grew more concerned the longer you sat there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the phone, as if your stare alone could make it ring. It did ring once, and you answered immediately, only to find with immense disappointment that it was a business call for Bucky, beckoning him to another road trip. 

“First, I don’t get a call back, and now you’re leaving me?” you asked miserably when he’d delivered the news to you and Steve. 

“I know, doll,” he said empathetically. “But it’s urgent. Besides, Steve’ll be here.” 

Steve gave you an encouraging smile. “Yeah, (Y/N), it won’t be so bad, just you and me. Maybe we could go catch a picture show.” 

You groaned and leaned against the back of the couch. “I can’t leave! What if they call while I’m gone? Then they’ll give it to the next girl, and I’ll still be out of a job.” Your lamentation was met with a shared look from your roommates and a pitying shoulder pat, leaving you even more miserable. 

“I know, how about I go down there and talk to Mr. Turner?” prompted Bucky, sitting next to you, slinging his arm around your shoulders. “Find out what the buzz is.” 

Your lips pursed into a pout. “I don’t want to get the job because you got it for me, Buck. I wanna get it cause I earned it.” 

“What do you think I’m gonna do, bribe him?” He placed his hand over his heart and gave you a very hurt look. “Jeez kid, nice to know your true feelings.” 

You smiled slightly, digging your elbow lightly into his ribs. “You know what I mean, hot shot. I don’t need to be known as that girl who had her big, bad beau stomp down and demand she get the gig. ‘Specially when I’ve barely made a name for myself yet.” 

“You haven’t made a name for yourself at all,” Steve chimed in. 

“Thanks,” you said flatly. You rubbed your eyes with a sigh, dragging your hands down your face. 

There was a beat of silence, Bucky’s eyebrows scrunched together in thought, before he slapped his knee and pointed at you. “Didn’t you say there was a woman at your audition? Natasha?” At your nod, he turned his finger to Steve. “You think that could be Nat?”

Steve shrugged. “Wouldn’t put it past her to work at a place like that.” You started to protest, asking what he meant by that, but he shut it down with a smile. “Sorry, doll, didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“What’d she look like, (Y/N)?” Bucky asked, obviously excited by the development. 

“Uh,” you stalled, trying to draw from your memory. “Pretty, short red hair… Pretty.” 

“I’ll bet you five dollars that’s Romanoff.” Bucky laughed and clapped his hands together. “Excellent. What luck!”

“What luck?” you parroted, turning the statement to a question. “I don’t get it.” You looked to Steve for help, which he supplied. 

“Buck has worked closely with Natasha in the past. She’s… somethin’,” he stated blandly.

“You don’t like her?”

“Oh no, I like her a lot,” he amended. “I just don’t know her well enough to trust her. She used to work for the Russian market.”

“Lest we forget, dearest Steven, the Russians helped us get our start,” Bucky reminded his friend, causing Steve to frown.

You were utterly confused. “You lost me, guys.” 

“Bucky used to work with the Russian shipping company down by the docks,” Steve explained hesitantly, keeping his eyes trained on Bucky to, you guessed, gauge what he could tell you. “That’s how he got in the business.”

“In the business,” you repeated flatly. “Jesus, Steve, you make it sound like he’s in the mafia.”

Bucky burst into laughter, his arm slipping from your shoulders so he could clutch his sides.

“What? What did I say?” You looked between them in bewilderment. 

“Nothing, (Y/N),” Steve told you, his frown quirking into a smile. “Nothing at all.” 

You huffed. “This is too cryptic for me, I need a snack.” As you stood from the couch, the phone rang. You darted for it, but Bucky was faster, giving you a pointed look as he greeted the caller.

You struggled to take it from him, but he kept you away with an outstretched hand, leaving you to only hear muffled snippets and Bucky’s repeated “Uh-huh”s. Frustration began to well up in you, and you pushed harder, ending up flopping into Bucky’s lap. The phone clicked as he hung up after a bright goodbye. 

“Who was it? Was it for me?” you rushed out, scrambling up so you were practically straddling him. You gripped his face between your hands, squishing his cheeks enough that his plush mouth was pursed slightly. He looked awful cute, distracting you for a moment, and you squished his cheeks a little harder. Bucky pouted up at you and your heart fluttered a little. Your cheeks tinted pink. Wait. No. You shook yourself. You were forgetting the problem at hand. You straightened and put on an air of seriousness. “Tell me.” 

Bucky pushed your hands away, looking a little red himself, and huffed. “Sorry doll, not for you. More info about my trip, which, by the way, I’ve been delayed from packing for.” 

You whined and shifted off his lap, waiting for him to move before resuming your place by the phone, your eyes once again settling on the device. Steve sighed, gently patted your back, and went off to get Bucky’s bag started while the brunet stood over you, arms crossed across his chest. “Doll.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to talk to them? Seriously.” 

“I dunno,” you said glumly, drawing your knees up to your chest. “Maybe.” 

He knelt next to you and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his smile sympathetic. “They’ll call you, (Y/N). They’d be crazy not to.”

You averted your eyes, trying to blink away any mist that fought to turn into tears. “You don’t even want me to get the job,” you grumbled. 

“Not true,” he protested. “I want you to do whatever makes you happy. And if this job makes you happy, then.” He shrugged. “I’ll deal with the injury to my pride.” 

You brightened a bit at that and unfolded, wiping your eyes. “Thanks, Buck.” 

He squeezed your knee with a nod and stood, leaving you to help Steve with the packing. 

Not for the first time, you began to marvel at how luck had certainly been in your favor when Bucky had plucked you off the side of that wet highway. Happy tears welled up in your eyes this time, even as your stare remained fixed on the phone. 

The phone rang for the third time that hour, and while your stomach began to perform a full out vaudeville routine inside you, you tried not to get your hopes up. “Hello?” you asked as coolly as possible.

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?” a feminine voice asked on the other end.

You swallowed hard. “This is she.”

“This is Natasha. I was there at your audition.”

“Y-yes, of course! Hi, Miss Romanoff.”

A light laugh caused you to break into a sweat. “Please, just Natasha is fine. Anyway, I’ve got good news for you, (Y/N).”

“Oh?” You floundered for something else to follow that, but nothing came. 

“Mr. Turner was very impressed by your performance,” she purred. “He’d like you to come by tomorrow to talk about the job.”

For a moment, you were worried you were going to pass out. “I,” you stopped to take a deep breath. “Did I get it?”

“Yeah, kid. You got it.” 

The phone dropped out of your hand. Quickly, you scrambled to pick it up, babbling thanks to Natasha once the receiver was back against your ear. Natasha took your gratitude in stride and made sure you had time to get a pen and pad of paper before she gave you the info for your appointment  with Mr. Turner. Thanks continued to pour out of you, even as you said goodbye. 

You practically bounced off the couch and rushed into your roommates’ room. You were so excited, you opened the door so hard it bounced back, hitting you square in the forehead and knocking you onto your ass. 

“Ow,” you whined as you rubbed at your forehead. Steve rushed to your side and carefully helped you to your feet, cooing over your injury, ever the mother hen. “Stevie, I’m fine.” You pushed him away once you were seated on the bed. 

“What’s the rush, kiddo?” Bucky asked, setting a folded shirt into his valise. 

Your excitement remembered, you hopped up from the bed, almost slipping on a stray pair of socks. Great, seemed like receiving the best news of your life came with a severe case of accident-proneness. 

“I got it! I got the gig!” you cheered, hopping up and down. 

Bucky and Steve cheered with you, Bucky even going so far as to sweep you up in a spinning hug. “That’s my girl! I knew you’d knock ‘em dead,” he exclaimed proudly. 

You beamed and blushed under his praise, practically glowing as Steve praised you in a similar manner, his arm slinging around your waist. “I’m so happy I could cry,” you told them. 

“Not like it’d be the first time,” Steve snarked, which got him a sharp elbow to the ribs from you. 

“Careful Rogers, or you won’t get to see me in my swanky digs up on stage,” you threatened playfully. “Oh god, I can’t wait.” You collapsed on their bed, arms thrown towards the ceiling. “The glamour of it all! I can’t believe it,” you sighed.

Bucky continued packing, quiet after his moment of cheer. It bothered you. You snuck over to him and hugged him from behind, your chin barely reaching his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, doll,” he said, detaching you from him. “I think it’s real swell.” 

“You’re mad you didn’t get to talk to them for me.” 

“No!” he exclaimed, shutting his suitcase. “No, that’s not it.” Bucky looked at his watch, and then looked over you at Steve. “I’ve got to motor.” 

Steve nodded and pulled Bucky into a tight embrace, one you looked away from so you didn’t feel like an intruder. Once they split, Bucky pulled you into a hug as well, your face pressed into his shirt. He smooched your head, you got one last whiff of his cologne, and then he was out, suitcase in one hand, keys in the other. “I’ll call,” he assured you and Steve, right before the door shut. 

Already you could feel his absence, and a shudder ran through you. It was like the apartment got colder as soon as he was gone. “Is it always like this?” you asked Steve, hoping he would get the meaning. 

“Unfortunately,” he confirmed. 

A collective sigh sounded as the two of you stared at the door, a couple of forlorn pups waiting for their owner to get back from work. 

Steve clapped, snapping you both back to reality, and smiled. “At least we’ve got each other now.” 

“Right!” you chirped. “And you know what that means.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

You couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face. “I’ll get the chess board.”

“That’s my girl.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what they say, when the cat’s away, the mice will play... board games, that is! Especially two player ones, that they could never play while Bucky was there because they didn’t want to exclude him. :,)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of somewhat fortuitous events, and a shocking confession.

“I miss Bucky,” you muttered, rolling the dice that came with the Clue™ board game Steve had unearthed from the closet. Everything seemed gloomy without your would-be savior, even the weather. It had been raining non stop since Bucky set out for god only knew where. 

Steve seemed to share your sentiments, sending you a sympathetic look. “Me too, kiddo.”

“Wish he’d call,” you mumbled. You set your piece, Miss Scarlet, of course, in the Study. You briefly pondered who the killer was, but your heart wasn’t fully invested. You had a sinking suspicion Steve was going to win no matter what play you tried to make. Instead, you splayed out on the ground, arms stretched above your head. “Where is he, anyhow?”

Your roommate shrugged. “Last time he called, he said he was in Indiana,” he supplied. “I think he’s on his way to Chicago.”

“Chicago’s in Illinois,” you said flatly.

“He has to go through Indiana to get to Illinois, doll.”

You scoffed. “I know that. Obviously.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It made your heart lurch. You sat up and crawled to his side of the board game, leaning against him. His arm wrapped instinctively around your side. “He’ll be back before you know it, (Y/N),” he said, probably more for his benefit than your own.

“Yeah, Steve. I know.” Your head fell against his broad shoulder. 

* * *

You thanked your lucky stars more times than you could count that the skies cleared the day you had your appointment with Mr. Turner. Your hair, which you spent hours carefully curling the night before, was in no danger of being harmed. 

You journeyed alone this time, a feat both nerve wracking and exciting. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you traced the path Steve had led you for your audition. The numbered streets made it easier than you expected. You even got to take the subway once. God bless New York City. 

The club, which you had thought easy to miss before, seemed unavoidable as you approached it. The stairs called you by name, beckoning you down to the cool entryway below. Tentatively, you pushed open the door. There was no secretary for you to talk to this time, not even a bouncer. You took a deep breath. A red curtain stood before you, blocking what you assumed was the rest of the club. Gently pushing it aside, you could see you were right.

The club was significantly more vast than you thought, with a high ceiling and round tables that seemed to go on forever. A long stage dominated the space to the left of you, a bar on the opposite side. A familiar redhead sat patiently at the bar, a martini glass in her hand. 

You approached her with a nervous smile. “Ms. Romanoff, er, Natasha? Hi, I’m (Y/N) (L/N). From the audition. You called me,” you babbled. Her cool green eyes slid to you, her red lips quirking into a smirk. When you offered her your hand, she waited a beat before she took it. 

“I know who you are, (Y/N).” Her grip was like a very soft vice. “Welcome to The Arabella.” 

“Thanks,” you tittered, suddenly flustered. You realized you were still holding her hand and dropped it hastily. “Happy to be here.” 

She turned from you and gracefully slid off her stool, her black pencil skirt still placed perfectly on her hips. Oh, to have her skill. Your skirts rode up even when they weren’t form fitting. A soft sigh left you. 

“Mr. Turner is in his office.” She pointed towards a door behind the bar. “Through that door and to the left. Can’t miss it.” 

You straightened your back in an attempt to quell your ever rising anxiety. “Thank you, Natasha,” you said, attempting to sound as breezy as she did. Emphasis on attempt. 

Nevertheless, you squared your shoulders and followed her instructions. Through the door was a hallway, lit only by a dim bulb on the ceiling. It seemed damp. A shiver ran down your spine. She was right when she said the door couldn’t be missed. For one thing, it was the only door on the left. It also helped that the frosted glass window had Turner etched into it, bolded and in all caps. 

You raised your hand to knock, but before your knuckles had a chance to touch the wood, you were being called to enter by Mr. Turner’s accented voice. You inhaled deeply and opened the door. His office was very tidy, and small, though maybe it felt that way because of the floor to ceiling bookshelves that covered his left and right walls. Mr. Turner himself sat behind a heavy looking desk in a green leather chair, his head bent over his paperwork. His long hair hung in his face, obscuring him from your view. 

“Mr. Turner,” you started, finally letting go of the breath you had been holding. “It’s an honor, sir, really, I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity-“

He looked up at you, his eyebrow raised. He was wearing the same tinted glasses as the first time you saw him. “Take a seat, won’t you, Miss (L/N)?” he interrupted smoothly. You demurred and took a seat in the lone chair across from him. A stifling silence settled over the room as he leaned back in his chair and looked at you appraisingly. “That was quite a stunt you pulled at the audition.”

“Thank you, I think,” you managed.

He nodded briefly before he leaned forward, his hands threaded together. His eyes were intense behind the glasses. It was rather unsettling. “You’d like to sing here.”

“Yes, sir, I would.”

“Terrific.” He suddenly sounded cheerful, even though his face didn’t change. “You’ve got talent, no doubt about that. Just what we need.” 

His straight faced praise left you blushing and scrambling for words. “Th-thank you, Mr. Turner,” you said, trying not to mumble. His admiration of your skill made you want to sink into your chair. 

“You’ll start next weekend. This Wednesday you’ll come in for a fitting,” said Mr. Turner. “Starting pay is thirty dollars a show. Does that suit you?” 

You nodded, at a loss for words. “Yes! Yes, absolutely,” you managed once you recovered. “Golly, thank you, sir.”

“You’ve got talent, kid.” He waved his hand, dismissing you from his office. “Natasha will get you the paperwork.” 

* * *

The shrill ring of the phone startled you out of your sleep. You sat up fast, blankets spilling around your waist, momentarily trapping you as you rushed to get out of bed. After a brief wrestling match with your quilt, you were up and wrapped up in a robe, darting for the phone. It ringed once more before you answered. “Hello?” you asked, panting slightly. 

A smooth baritone answered. “Hey doll.” Your heart clenched. “Missed you.” His words slurred slightly, but you could hear his smile, and it made your heart ache all the more. 

“Bucky,” you breathed. “I missed you too. Where are you?” You glanced at the clock above the kitchen window. “Why are you calling at 2 am?”

“S’only midnight here, darlin’.” He chuckled. “Just wanted to talk.”

“Talk,” you said flatly. A spark of irritation lit in your belly. “You haven’t called for a week, Buck. Now you wanna talk.”

“Aww, don’t be sour with me, (Y/N),” he pleaded, “S’not my fault. I’ve been busy.”

“Mm,” you agreed. “Busy driving me and Steve up a wall.” Bucky laughed, and for a moment you forgot your anger. The ache of him gone was just too much. “When are you coming home?” Your question was practically a whimper. Kinda pathetic, but to be fair, you just woke up. You were allowed some emotional fluidity. 

“Dunno,” he sighed. “Soon, I hope. I’m really trying, doll. Things are more complicated here than I expected.” His tone had an edge to it, the slur fading. Through the phone you could hear a thick swallow. 

“Are you drinking?” 

Hesitation. “Maybe.”

“Bucky,” you whined. “C’mon, that’s not good for you.” 

“I’ll be fine, doll. Just something to take the edge off. Relax, huh? Everything’s copacetic,” said Bucky. Your mind flashed back to the night you had said those words to him, when you had been sobbing in his kitchen. Your guess was things were not copacetic after all. 

You sighed softly. “Be careful, Buck. Please? For me. And Steve,” you added. 

“Of course,” he said, suddenly serious. “Send my love to Steve.” 

“At a more reasonable hour, maybe,” you amended. 

“And (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I love you,” he said. Then he hung up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey what’s up, it’s been like almost 2 months, cause college and writer’s block, but I’m ready to get this show on the road! How about y’all?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You avoid feeling things and make a new friend.

You staggered a bit, the phone dropping from your hand. It hit the table leg, the dull thud barely registering. You sat down on the couch heavily. Did he say what you thought he said? He… loved you? No, surely you must have misheard him.

You knew you didn’t. Even with your occasional auditory processing problems, his words had been clear as crystal. Clearer, even. Bucky had told you he loved you.

You sat very still for a long time. The clock ticked steadily in the background, giving you something to focus on. The sound was a buoy in a raging tempest of thought. An occasional chime warned you of the passing hours, but you remained in your spot.

Steve found you that way when he woke at 5. The phone still remained off the hook, and you didn’t even glance up at him. “(Y/N)? What are you doing up?” He noticed the phone and hung it up, sitting next to you. “(Y/N)?”

“Bucky,” you said. “He-“ You stopped.

Steve shifted anxiously. “He what? Did something happen?” His voice raised about an octave. “Is he hurt? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“No, no, he’s fine.” You still couldn’t look directly at him, even while you attempted to soothe him. “Nothing to worry about.” 

His jaw clenched, his mouth tilting into a frown. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes flicked to him. Your cheeks heated up. “He uh, he just said something that surprised me, s’all. It’s fine.” You cleared your throat and stood up, wobbling a little. “He sends his love.” 

He looked at you dubiously. “(Y/N)—“

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve,” you sighed. “I have to go in to the club tonight. I should get some rest.” You quickly retreated to your room and shut the door. Stumbling to your bed, you let yourself fall on it and buried your face in your pillow. How were you supposed to deal with this? 

No way you could tell Steve the truth. You didn’t know if Bucky had ever mentioned it to him, and you certainly didn’t want to be the one to spring it on him. Especially not when they were so… involved. You groaned. It was totally unfair of Bucky to just spring that on you! He couldn’t even tell you in person. “Coward,” you mumbled. After about half an hour of sulking, you more or less forced yourself into a restless sleep. 

A rumbling in your stomach woke you up around three pm. Within a few minutes, you had managed to get out of bed and fix yourself a sandwich, staring blankly out the window as you ate. You failed to notice Steve entering behind you.

You jumped when he cleared his throat. 

Steve leant against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over his chest, face annoyingly maternal. “Please don’t start,” you pleaded, setting down your sandwich. 

He held up his hands in surrender and joined you near the window. “I’m not sayin’ anything, doll. It’s fine. Buck called while you were asleep,” he said, watching your face to gauge your reaction. You remained stony-faced. 

“Oh?” was all you said. 

“Explained the whole thing. He feels real torn up about upsetting you,” he said, his eyebrows turned up in sympathy. You wanted to punch his stupid, pretty face. 

You took a bite of your sandwich to avoid saying anything incriminating. 

Steve shifted. Something changed in his face. He seemed almost uncomfortable. “I get that you don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “But, I think you should talk about it.” 

“Ugh, Steve.”

“C’mon (Y/N), I mean it. I know what it’s like not to acknowledge your feelings. It only makes things harder to figure out.” Steve set his mouth in a meaningful line and took your hand, squeezing it. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to talk about your feelings. You wanted to keep them all in a knot in your chest, and then one day you’d die. 

To delay your answer, you looked at the clock, your eyes going round with pretend shock. “Oh, would you look at the time! Jeez, Stevie, I’d love to stay and chat about this, but I’ve really got to motor if I want to get to The Arabella on time!” You shrugged your shoulders in apology and got out of the kitchen as fast as you could. In reality, you still had about an hour before you had to get ready, but you just could not talk about your feelings right now. Especially not the ones concerning Bucky. 

You washed your face, brushed your teeth, and brushed your hair much faster than you intended. Must have been your nerves. You slid on an appropriately cute dress and some kitten heels that matched it. You admired yourself in the mirror Bucky had set up. You hoped Mr. Turner appreciated earliness. Or at the very least, tolerated it. 

Steve looked up from the book he was reading when you entered the living room. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when he saw your expression. “Bye Steve,” you said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be back later.” 

“How much later?” Steve asked, his eyebrow raised. 

You shrugged. “Dunno. I’ll stay as late as they want me to.” 

Your roommate’s mouth set in a thin line. “Maybe I should come get you. I don’t like the idea of you walkin’ all alone at night.” 

You rolled your eyes, even though you were not exactly hip to the idea either. In fact, the idea of walking alone in New York at night was terrifying to you, but you’d have to get over that fear at some point. “Whatever, Steve. Do what you wanna do.” You kissed his cheek again and grabbed your coat from the rack. “You know where I’ll be.” 

You left as soon as he gave a grunt of acknowledgement. 

Cool air rushed you as you exited the apartment building and you shivered, wishing you’d brought a jacket. Oh well. You walked faster in an effort to warm up. Walking faster meant you reached the subway station way before your train. At least the station was warm as you plopped yourself down on a bench to wait. 

Your eyes were unfocused and trained on the ground when a pair of bright red high heels stepped into your line of sight. You blinked and looked up, gaze tracing the form of a lovely woman in a sharp blue suit. On her head was a striking red hat, slightly tilted to the side. “You wouldn’t happen to be (Y/N) (L/N), would you?” she asked in a melodic British accent. 

“Uh,” you said, eloquent as always. You blinked a few times, trying to focus again. You were so blown away by her beauty and the fact that she was talking to you (and knew your name??) that you struggled to form an answer. “Yes, I am,” you managed, after what felt like hours. 

She gave you a patient smile. Maybe she was used to causing speechlessness. “I knew it. Steve’s description was spot on, although you’re even more lovely than he let on.” 

Her praise took you by surprise, as did her mention of your roommate’s name. “You know Steve?” you asked, your awe evident. 

She nodded and stuck out her hand. “My name is Peggy, Peggy Carter.” You shook her hand, still in shock. “Steve and I were good friends in the army,” she supplied. 

“You were in the army?” Your eyes were round in awe. She just kept surprising you! You were going to have a coronary if she kept going. “Steve was in the army??”

Peggy tilted her head slightly, her eyebrow arching. “I’m surprised he’s never mentioned it. Steve was quite popular,” she told you. “Regardless, it is so wonderful to finally meet you. Congratulations on your job at The Arabella. Lovely club.”

“How- Did Steve tell you I got a job?”

She nodded. “He couldn’t stop gushing about it.” She smiled fondly. “He’s very proud of you, you know.” 

You blushed. “I uh—“ You were interrupted as you train pulled up to the platform. “Oh jeez, that’s my train.” You stood quickly and watched her for a moment before you stuck out your hand. “It was um, nice to meet you, Peggy. I hope I get to see you again soon,” you said earnestly. 

Peggy took your hand with a dazzling smile. “I’m sure you will. We’ll have a proper meeting next time. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks,” you managed, trying not to stumble onto the subway. You felt dazed as you grabbed onto a handrail and watched Peggy wave to you. You waved back, hand still moving even as the door shut and the train lurched forward into the tunnel. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell I love Peggy? Cause I really love Peggy.
> 
> Happy New Year!! Thanks for reading! Here’s to another year of updates, may they be more plentiful than they are currently.


	9. Chapter 9

_Moonlight shone in slanted lines along the wood flooring. You heard footsteps. You shut your eyes. The door opened and shut softly. The mattress dipped as a body settled beside you. Whoever it was fit perfectly against your back, hard chest pressed against your shoulder blades with just the right amount of pressure. He was warm_ _and comfortable. He felt like home._

_Strong hands settled on your hips and dragged you closer. Lips ghosted along the column of your neck, a hint of scratchy scruff offsetting softness. A sigh of pleasure left you. You wiggled a little, getting as close to your visitor as you could. The hand slid along your side, under your sleep shirt, until it stopped just below your breast, heavy on your ribcage._

_You couldn’t help but mewl._

_Your visitor chuckled in a familiar way._

_“Miss me?” Bucky asked, breath tickling your ear._

The front door slammed. You sat up straight, chest heaving. Bucky was not in your bed. A glance at the clock on your bedside informed you it was nearly four in the morning. You ran your hand through your hair as you tried to catch your breath. Curse your idiotic, unmerciful subconscious. There was absolutely no reason for you to have such a vivid dream about one of your roommates, especially not when one that bordered on erotic!

You took a deep breath. It meant nothing. It was probably just… stress. Yeah, stress. New city, new job, new living situation. Certainly a lot to be stressed about! Definitely no reason to look deeper into the meaning of the dream, or think about how nice it felt when he touched you.

Damn it. Damn him.

You bit your lip and slid out of bed, shrugging on a robe. Opening your door just a crack, you could see movement in the living room. You cracked it open further. Someone plopped down on the couch in a dramatic way.

“Bucky?” you called softly, stepping into the living room.

Bucky just about jumped three feet in the air. “Doll! What are you doing up?” He stood, and, for the first time in what felt like months, you got a good look at him.

His tie hung limply around his neck, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his usually clean shaven face bearded. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him, curling under his ears. His suit was crumpled, his face was gaunt, and the bags under his eyes were dark.

Still, he was beautiful.

“Bucky,” you breathed, and nearly collapsed in his arms as you pulled him into a hug. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

He readily returned your embrace, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other placed on the small of your back. Bucky laughed. “That’s supposed to be my line,” he said.

Tears pricked at your eyes. It was so good to see him again, to be near him again. You wanted to jump for joy and pummel him into the ground all at the same time. You buried your face in his neck, breathing in the smell of him. You let out a choked laugh. “You smell terrible,” you said, your voice cracking as the tears you fought to keep back broke through the dam.

“Well, I did just drive for 2 days straight,” he grumbled, pulling you closer. “Sacrifices were made.”

You laughed softly and pulled back to wipe away your tears. “Would it have killed you to take a shower?” you joked lightly.

Bucky scratched at his scruff, a little self-conscious. “Is it really that bad?”

You shook your head with another laugh. “No, not really. I’m just joshin’ ya.” You reached up and ran your hand through his hair. “Did you take care of yourself at all while you were gone?” you scolded, your hand falling to his shoulder.

He shrugged noncommittally. “I had to get home, doll,” said Bucky, his voice gruff with sudden emotion that caught you off guard, as if you hadn’t just cried because you were so happy to see him. “I missed you.”

“Oh, Buck,” you said. You rested your cheek against his shoulder as you hugged him again. “I missed you too. So much.”

Bucky smoothed your messy hair back and kissed the top of your head. “I hope you’re not still sore with me about that phone call,” he said after a few moments of silence.

You sighed. “I’m not mad. That was just a punk thing to do, telling me over the phone like that,” you said softly, pulling back to punch him gently in the arm.

Bucky gave you that classic, heart-melting smile. “Couldn’t wait.”

“Yeah well, that impatience is gonna be the death of us both,” you sighed, stepping away. Your eyes trained on Steve and Bucky’s bedroom door. “Go say hi to Steve. You need to sleep.”

You were about to head back to your room when Bucky grabbed your hand and pulled you back. “Wha-“ you started to question, but you were cut off by lips pressed against your own. The kiss was gentle, but filled with emotion. Your heart contracted, your whole chest tightening as you forgot to breathe.

Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “(Y/N). I love you,” he said firmly.

“Bucky-“

He interrupted you again. “You don’t have to say it back, I just want you to know. I can’t bear not telling you anymore.” He swallowed hard. “I love you,” repeated Bucky.

Despite this being his second confession, the words still hit you like a sucker punch. He loved you. Did you love him back? Could you say those words too? What did love even feel like? You couldn’t answer any of those questions at the moment.

Bucky’s expression slowly morphed into one of worry as he watched you. “(Y/N)? Say something, doll.”

You started shaking. Your heart was racing. Darkness started to creep into the edges of your vision. “I think I’m about to pass out,” you muttered. Whatever he said in reply was lost to you, your vision going completely black, your head a cloud.

When you came to, you were stretched out on the sofa. Someone had turned on a lamp. You groaned slightly and moved to sit up. Steve was at your side in an instant, his hand against your back to help. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows stitched together in concern.

“I’m fine,” you said, rubbing your face. “You didn’t have to get up.”

“That was my fault,” said Bucky, who was standing to behind Steve and shifting nervously from foot to foot, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I probably yelled loud enough to wake the whole building. You scared the shit outta me, doll.”

You waved away both of their concern. “I’m fine, I swear. Just got overwhelmed.”

Steve smoothed your hair back, his eyes momentarily shooting daggers at Bucky. “You okay to get up?” he asked. You nodded and Steve began to help you to a standing position, his arm secured around your waist in a way that almost seemed protective.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N), honest,” Bucky said, biting his lip. He remained where he was as Steve guided you to your room, practically carrying you though you didn’t know why, you could walk just fine on your own.

“It’s okay, Buck.” You managed a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve walked you into your room and shut the door. He made sure you were settled on the bed before he crossed his arms over his chest. You groaned. “Please, I can see the lecture in your eyes,” you said. “Don’t.”

Steve’s mouth tightened into a line. “(Y/N), you’ve got to acknowledge your emotions.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and pulled your blankets over you. “No, I don’t,” you countered. “I could just stay here forever and not acknowledge anything!”

He sighed. Steve settled onto the edge of the bed and pulled your covers off your head. “You literally just passed out from bottling things up,” he said, staring pointedly at you. It was unnerving, the way he seemed to stare into your soul.

“No,” you replied weakly. “My blood pressure just dropped.”

Steve made a ‘hmph’ noise and leaned down, kissing your forehead. “We’ll talk about this over breakfast.”

You grimaced. “Do we have to?” you asked, a hint of whine in your voice.

“Yep,” said Steve simply, popping the ‘p’. He smiled. “Mandatory ‘come to jesus’ meeting. Sleep well.” Then he left, shutting the door softly behind him and leaving you alone in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it’s been several months since I updated this, and I’m so sorry! College has been crazy, but I’m summer break now, so. We’ll see.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you have any questions, comments, or concerns!


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